Porcelain Boy

There’s a porcelain boy
sitting on your shelf,
looking down from the ledge,
and crying to himself.
Little boy, won’t you tell me what is wrong?
Who made you so frail?
Is your body just a jail
that keeps your soul from moving on?

Now you and I have tried so much
to keep alive so little.
But the cracks are growing on our skin.
Our hearts are getting brittle.
We’ve polished up our porcelain love,
but the feeling’s just increased.
There’s nothing left to fake.
We’re just waiting for us to break
and another life to be released.

Other worlds are calling
to us from the street.
Ain’t no use to keep on stalling
at the window, you have to leap.
And anyway, sometimes it’s just the falling
that brings us to our feet.

So will you love your porcelain boy
when he falls from the shelf?
Will you love him even when
you can’t hold him yourself?
Will you love me as a memory,
even when my touch is gone?
Or are you so frail?
Is my body just a jail
that keeps your soul from moving on?
Or are you so frail?
Is my body just a jail
that keeps your soul from moving on?

Tam Lin